Screw the weak,”attention grabbing” introductory paragraph tripe. Let’s get right to the meat and potatoes: I lose a lot. And that’s worth saying again, in caps and italics: I Lose A Lot. This is, in fact, an inviolable law of multi-player chaos Magic. It’s the nature of the beast: if you play a lot of chaos Magic (with players of any reputable skill – that qualification I will make), you will lose far more games than you win and it doesn’t matter if you are a master player, diplomat or deck builder. Even if you play in a group of three or more players for some time and you manage to dominate initially, you will eventually become known as”the one to beat” and let me tell you (from personal experience!) it is impossible to continually beat those odds.
As a consequence, I have accumulated far more tales involving the”agony of defeat” than those concerning the glory of victory. In fact, sometimes I get so wrapped up in the feelings of anguish and impending doom while losing a match that I just can’t separate fact or fiction into two neat little piles. The blows to my psyche actually feel like physical blows to the head. Defeat on Dominaria is almost a palpable death. Losing a game hits me harder than losing my job (hah!), my wife (done!), or my beer (Nooooooo!) – in that order.
Today I will relate some of my most painful defeats, and alongside these recollections I will provide (in italics) stories that accurately portray the atmosphere and attendant feelings I had while being
pwn3d.*
(Before I start, however, let it be said that I have never begrudged a foe a hard-earned victory, especially one accomplished in spectacular fashion.)
6) Ganja and the Gone Djinn (Humboldt County, CA 1996).
I remember it as a dark and stormy night, but that could simply be due to the way it ended…I was playing a mono-Blue deck, very simple in composition: Mahamoti Djinns, Sibilant Spirits, Clones, Vesuvan Dopplegangers, Dance of Manys, mana acceleration and bounce. I called it: Mahi Mahi.
Great gouts of black-streaked fire rage from a hundred cannons, smashing the hull of the Pina Colada (Noooooo!). The last of the great Spanish ships suddenly founders rapidly, going down with barely a fight. Ships of the English armada circle her bones, mercifully picking bedraggled survivors from the water. Ensign Swain, witnessing the victory from the decks of the armada’s flagship, heads triumphantly to the officer’s quarters to relate the news to the old admiral.
I was in an eight-player game at Jeff’s, and I had it going on! No one else had more than one other creature out thanks to my bounce, and no fliers – while I was casting Moti after Moti! I had a whole fleet of them out, a dozen total – and I wasn’t attacking. Sixty powers’ worth of flyers out, and I wasn’t attacking. I thought I’d rack up style points and wait until I had cast the other three Moti clones in my hand to give me enough firepower to finish everyone with a single attack. It was all over but the gloating…
“The last Spanish vessel has been sunk, Admiral.” Eyeing the fast diminishing wreck and the massive English armada through the port windows, the Admiral smiles and rests his hand on the ensign’s shoulder.”At ease, son. These seas are ours now. We are uncontested on these waters.” Sudden laughter envelops him.”In truth, we always have been and always will be!” Grabbing and pulling from a brandy snifter, the admiral sits down and motions for the ensign to sit as well.” Time to pull in the sails, rest, and gather the fleet before carrying the battle on to the coast.” Still standing, Ensign Swain looks out the Starboard windows and points to a dark mass of clouds in the distance.”But, shouldn’t we attack quickly and take the port before the storm, sir? Looks like a big one coming.” Momentarily agitated, the admiral barks:”Bah! What’s a little wind and rain after surviving a hail of lead?” Pointing to the liquor cabinet he says, reassuringly,”Son, drink some brandy and relax! We’ve already won!” Resigned, the ensign sighs and grabs and fills a snifter.”Aye, aye, Sir.”
Suddenly…chaos. Mayhem. A graveyard twelve cards deeper, down six life, and David places a Hurricane in his graveyard with a giant S.E.G. on his face. Death imminent… to this day, I ask myself, why didn’t I attack?!
Caught like toys circling a child’s bathtub drain, the once mighty armada disappears one-by-one beneath a massive whirlpool created by the hurricane. As the admiral’s ship makes like an offering to the great porcelain god, Ensign Swain guzzles the remaining brandy in an attempt to beat the sea to the punch…and gives the gray-haired old admiral a swirlie.
5) Take ’em all with me! (Humboldt County, CA, winter 1995).
This was a six or seven player game, and I was playing a version of my B/R
Gravity Sphere/Earthquake deck. Everyone was under six life (including me), and people were trying to off me now that I had finally let my Glacial Chasm go. Knowing that my next turn would most likely be my last, I decided to Earthquake the entire table out and call that a victory…
…An earwig…ate…into my brain…Doc says if it’s a female, it… (Shudder) …probably laid…eggs…in there…when they hatch, they will devour my memories…I must…end it all…now…take them with me before I lose my mind…got the double-barreled, sawed-off twelve-gauge shotgun in my mouth, loaded with buckshot…
…I cast Earthquake for six, enough to finish everyone (and myself!) – but lo and behold, that wimp Warren cast Simulacrum targeting his Scavenging Ghoul, redirecting the damage – and manages to eke out a victory! To add insult to injury, he revealed that he was holding a Backdraft the whole time!
…Take my last breath…grip the triggers…start to pull…my life, flashing by in slow motion…My God! Something falling out of my ear…an earwig! Too late…too late…
(Note regarding earwigs: what you have just read is an urban legend. They can’t actually get into your brain and lay eggs. I’ve heard a rumor, though, that they do have a hard time backing up once they get in there…)
4) To Hell, and not back (pizza parlor, Humboldt County, fall 1995).
I used to have a B/W deck with Circle of Protection: Black, Greater Realm of Preservation, and all the Black creatures and spells that did damage to you like Hellfire, Pestilence, Erg Raiders, Lord of the Pit, etc. (Note: remember that at that time you could legally activate Pestilence using any amount of Black mana and prevent the damage with a single activation of a COP.) This was a five-player game, and I had out a COP:Black, Pestilence, and a Lord of the Pit (enchanted with Demonic Torment – no thanks to Matt!) with four Swamps, three Scrubland[/author]“][author name="Scrubland"]Scrublands[/author], and three Plains in play; all tapped. There were no other creatures in play. My Pit Lord was effectively chained, but I could still deal five damage a turn via Pestilence (and still prevent damage from the Pit Lord and the Pestilence via COP) and eliminate everyone but Ken (who was at fourteen life) with one activation, when the bastard Disenchanted my COP just before my turn! I was at eight life, but also holding a Disenchant and a Swords to Plowshares…
In this deepest, darkest, dankest of dungeons they have chained me tightly to the bodies of my rotting victims with no light, no water, no sustenance… an abomination, they called me! A demon incapable of rehabilitation, they said – damned for eternity! Hah! Can they not see my function? Can they not see that I merely prey upon the weak and unfaithful, lightening the burdens of the community? For this, I absorb all their sins and insults? Have I not already paid dearly for the ghastly powers I bargained for? Must I now chew my way through the moldy, maggot-infested bodies of these pathetic souls I have so mercifully murdered in order to break free of my bonds and resume my essential position? Then, so be it!
I decide to take the seven damage from the Pit Lord and Disenchant the Demonic Torment so I can attack Ken, then I will activate the Pestilence for seven and Swords the Pit Lord in response to finish with one life… and the victory! At least, that was the plan…
…Through the last of bone and sinew, finally – I am free! Oddly…strengthened by my ordeal…I must break these cell bars, quickly now! Stairs, over there…I can see the light as I climb…upwards I go, radiating fear…all crossing my path, weaken before me…now – I see a lone guard standing between myself and freedom – freedom! …I STRIKE from the shadows…
I attack Ken with the Pit Lord and he takes it, then I activate Pestilence for seven and cast Swords to Plowshares targeting the Pit Lord in response – and good old sweet Stormy activates her Mishra’s Factory, taps it to pump itself one, and casts Deflection to redirect the Swords to her Factory – and thus manages to win at one life.
The guard, alert – moves into the Light! The Light! I follow, but it burns! IT BURNS! I cannot take it…cannot…cannot…
3) Bizarre, Bazaar-Czar Biz (Great Escape Games, Sacramento, summer 2003).
I was playing my B/U Bazaar of Wonders deck in a four-person game. Deep into the game I was cruising as I had a Bazaar, a Silent Specter, a Grindstone, and Ambassador Laquatus out (and a Cunning Wish in hand) with nothing else of note on the board for anyone. I cast Recall to return Traumatize to my hand and cast it on Tom (playing a Green deck), and followed that up with Bribery to grab his best remaining creature from his deck, basically eviscerating him.
I had previously cast Traumatize on the guy to my right (sorry I forgot your name!) who was playing a rather nasty mono-Black deck, but was essentially reduced to”land…go!” status, as there was at least one copy of every card in his deck in the graveyard. I was about to turn my attention to the third dude, Vinnie, who was not doing much and didn’t seem like any kind of threat so I hadn’t paid much attention to him – which turned out to be a big mistake…(Alert! Foreshadowing Alert!)
I couldn’t believe my fortune! Only a hundred bucks to own my own island in the central pacific! That man with the overcoat didn’t seem too trustworthy at first with those Brooklyn Bridge titles – but this island! I couldn’t pass it up, and it’s PERFECT!
I didn’t have a care in the world! All I had to do was deck the Black deck player on my right with Laquatus or the Grindstone (he was down to less than ten cards in his library), finish Tom with the Specter, and then deal with Vinnie at my leisure! Things were going swimmingly well, the egg of victory ready to embrace the seed of supremacy…
Wow! All alone…a bunch of empty ships anchored off the reefs for some reason, but no people! A beautiful sunny day on my own island, sitting here with a Mai Tai, getting a tan! Now, where in the U.S. can you do that on March 1st, 1954?! Life doesn’t get much better than this…
Ah, Vinnie! Vinnie! What have I ever done to you? Vinnie, Vinnie – we are of the same people! The same flesh! Do you spit the Godfather’s kisses back into his face? Do you steal the pennies from your dead enemy’s eyelids? Why did you do it? Why did you deny me? Why? Why? Why? Ah…Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie – why did you cast that Natural Affinity on that mono-Black deck player’s upkeep (when I was tapped out!) to give him fifteen 2/2 Swamps to attack me with? Why do you hate me so?!
Aaaahhh…Bikini Atoll: home of some of the greatest barrier reefs in the world…I must snorkel soon, check it out – ah, but wait! Is that a plane I see up there in the sky? Hmmm…it’s dropping something…
…At least my fictional character saw it coming. And, as the Bikini Islanders shall never again be able to return to their irradiated home; so, too, shall I never again take Vinnie so lightly…beware the garlic dice, Vinnie. Beware.
2) Thou shalt not steal (Houston, Texas; Midnight Comics, summer 2000).
I was playing my mono-Blue”steal everything and ask questions later” deck in an eight-player game. Little did I realize at the time what a moralistic lesson I was about to learn… (I suck at this foreshadowing stuff, don’t I?). I had managed to control at least one creature from every player on the board using Control Magic-type enchantments, Seasingers and Old Men of the Sea, or my Ashnod’s Transmogrant/Magus of the Unseen combo and was basically killing people with their own creatures! In a twist of magnificent irony, two of the creatures I had stolen were the legends Rubinia SoulSinger and Mirieke Ri Berit, and I kept using them to steal creatures from their original owners to feed my Celestial Sword for savage beats! I had everyone down below five life points and ready to be dispatched with my final attack phase while I was still at twenty! Things were going smashingly well…
Riley the Narc was paid well for an informant, and somehow always managed to profit from the downfall of his associates. There he would be after a raid, his pockets lined with stash and cash, presumably caught up in the action with his pals and led away in handcuffs but inevitably released soon after with most of the goods intact…
…And then Mike, sitting to my immediate left, casts… Thieves’ Auction! After a pass around the table, all I had to show for my effort was a tapped Mirieke – and there sat I, fresh out of Twiddles. I was open to face a round of retaliatory attacks from everyone with no blockers in sight – and no hopes of surviving to see my next turn…
…Riley stood in the prison’s bathroom foyer, naked and shaking nervously, exposed for all to see. The significance and futility of shirking on his kickbacks to Sheriff Todd was about to be fully impressed upon him. The Sheriff and his guards stood near the door behind Riley clutching shotguns and leering evilly while anticipating the fireworks to come. Whistling loudly, the Sheriff shoved Riley forward.”Come on out of the stalls, guys. I got a present for you!” Stunned, Riley saw eight of his former comrades step out of the stalls, naked, each rubbing his fists and intent on retaliation for Riley’s traitorous acts. The Sheriff leaned forward and tossed a bar of soap on the floor past the waiting men.”Well, whatcha waitin’ for, son?” asked the Sheriff in a phony perplexing tone.”Go get that soap! And say ‘hi’ to your buddies on the way!” With the sound of shotguns cocking behind him, Riley looked back, sighed, and went off after the soap…
1) Scarred for many lives (Humboldt County, spring 1996)
This was the mother of all games; the one that stands at the top of the heap for the title of”Most Spectacular Defeat Ever Suffered.” When considering a defeat for entrance into the pantheon, this is the one that I use as the gold standard against which all others are compared. This game set records (at the time) for the most permanents ever destroyed with a single spell; the largest life gain ever; the largest creature ever witnessed by man; and the most defibrillators ever needed at the Magic table. I remember it as an eight-player game, at Jeff’s, and he was sitting in his”throne” at the head of the table as usual – only this night, he truly earned it…
Death…is an abstraction. While we live (another abstraction? Ah, but an argument for another time…) we see things that are dead, sometimes (unfortunately) even witness the moment of death – and if by death we meant only:”unable to move of its own volition”, and/or”unable to maintain a recognizable form”; then perhaps the word would be adequate. However, the most common understanding of the word involves the concept of”existence”; as in”ceasing to exist” or, euphemistically;”no longer with us”. It is these”definitions” which upset me. How do we know that death is”the end” of existence? Has anyone absolute proof that upon death, one”ceases to be?” I surely cannot deny the sense data (as defined by Ayers) informing me that, yes, a body no longer moves or, after decomposition, even looks like a body – but I know, now, and irrefutably! – That”body” and”existence” are Not one and the same.
It was late in the game, with everyone still in, that…it happened. I was playing my Freyalise’s Wind deck and had three Thallids and an Elvish Farmer in play, along with thirty or so Thallid tokens. People kept Disenchanting my Winds, but I had out an Infinite Hourglass with a lot of counters on it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to attack, because Jeff and two other people also had small token producers and with Living Plane in play (thanks to Jeff!) everyone was a threat. I needed every blocker I could muster, and I decided to wait until I drew Stampede in order to end the game…
…And then Jeff took his turn.
It is said that Caesar, even when surrounded and outnumbered by the armies of Vercingetorix in the heart of Hairy Gaul, knew that he would be victorious. For the greatest generals, stubborn resoluteness and the ability to instill confidence are only the basest of traits; the truly great also have a presence – nay, prescience – about them that this is their time, their place, and it is not to be denied…
Jeff put eight mana into his pool, and cast… Dry Spell! In response, he sacrificed all of his lands to Zuran Orb and all of his Caribou Tokens (at least twenty) to Caribou Range. I hastily sacrificed all of my Thallid tokens to the Farmer to gain sixty-plus life, but it was moot at this point as I knew as soon as Jeff asked us to keep track of how many lands and creatures went to the graveyard what was coming: Khabal Ghoul! And enchanted with Spirit Link to boot! (I think he also disenchanted Living Plane at this point.) I now had no land and only an Elvish Farmer – that disappeared when David Terrored it in response to my life gain! The only things left on the table were the land Jeff played after the Death Spell, my Infinite Hourglass with tons of tokens on it, and Jeff’s Spirit-Linked Khabal Ghoul bearing over one-hundred counters…
It was in the moments before my passing that I was finally able to see beyond the veil of death; and though I had heard stories of men seeing their lives pass before their eyes in a flash when confronted with certain death, the shock of my impending doom was so great that several lives not my own passed before mine…
Jeff progressed clockwise around the table, finishing those who had not simply conceded. I refused to concede as I had a Plains in play and knew I had a couple Swords to Plowshares left in my library, but seeing that thing splatter David on my right sent my bowels to quivering… then it was my turn – and I drew… Stampede.
…Bound tightly to the chair and heavily gagged, Scalise could only look forward at the remains of what had been an excellent spaghetti dinner while Capone worked over his buddy Anselmi, seated to his right, with a baseball bat. Agonizing at the thought of his own doom, he somehow managed to bite through the gag deep into his own lip…as the blood dribbled down his face, he saw the shadow of Capone standing behind him – and suddenly felt a warm tingling sensation running down his leg…
…It was my turn to die.”Ankle up, buddy! Time to grab the soap!” And the life of Riley flashes before my eyes…then all goes dark…
…They say there’s a light at the end of this tunnel – and yes! Now…dark again, but it is so warm and cozy here…I just want to rest a bit…now, what’s this? Pressure…then light! What? Where am I? What’s going on? I have a body again! I…can see! And someone is holding me upside down, by the ankle – ready to slap my behind!
Oh My God It’s Jeff!
…They say there’s a light at the end of this tunnel…
* – (Note to cover my ass: In describing these very emotional, visceral nut highs and leguminous nadirs that I encountered while playing the game of Magic, the absolutely incredible, totally extreme, tremendously excessive, overbearingly disproportionate exaggeration I impart in telling these stories barely begins to describe the inexorable, everlasting pain I endured while losing each of these contests. Please, weep for me… as I hereby invoke the author’s right to”creative license”.)